2020-11-08 - Who You Know

The months she’d lived in the house had been a bit challenging to Abitha, for a multitude of reasons. Free spirits with little care for modesty was one, which meant the motion detection had been turned back off a couple weeks after Grant’s move-in. Luckily, the cooling temperatures had mitigated this concern to the security minded gamer.

The second was Corey’s cooking. Sparrow had warned Abitha ahead of time, and still the gamer had no preparation for the amount of delicious and utterly fattening food that was left on daily basis in that fridge. After the first few weeks and a terrifyingly quick uptick to her diminutive weight, Abitha had taken to regular exercise, though the minimum possible, running around the block a few times a week.

Just so, she’d just finished up a shower after such a run, exiting the bathroom in a loose tank and leggings, patting her hair dry gently as her head tips. The great thing about certain roommates was their hobbies sometimes told you exactly where they were, and reminded you at the same time of things. Tossing her towel and dirty clothes into her hamper, she headed down the stairs to find Sparrow.

Yeah, it's definitely difficult to miss Sparrow today. Unless you're Grant, and you've got your hearing aids turned off. Anyone with a normal capacity for hearing is privy to the purple-haired punk's location as she bangs away on her drums with the basement door open. Look, nobody was home when she started. The closer one gets, the easier it might be to make out the song, but even that might be challenging for people who don't pay particular attention to percussion, given that all the accompaniment is streaming into her (otherwise protective noise-cancelling) headphones. Dressed today in a white sweatshirt with the painted outline of a black heart on the front and a pair of comfy, colorful MLP pajama shorts, she makes adorable, enthusiastic faces as she plays, as if for an audience, but there isn't so much as a camera in sight, her phone face up on the tray beside her chair.

More and more, she's been down here for stress-relief: between classes, after classes, weekends. Whenever she might have otherwise gone out. Whenever schoolwork gets frustrating. Whenever her aggression levels exceed her chill. These days, it's a lot. On the bright side, the drumming does seem to help.

As it's likely happened a fair bit by now, Abitha does her best not to be a surprise appearance. Sure, Sparrow wasn't going to hear her coming, but rounding the bottom of the basement staircase in full view, hands up and still shaking her emerald hair in a visually drawing way that still seems natural, Abitha pulls her wavy locks into a loose ponytail. That done, one hand falls to her side while the other offered a small wave, looking to Sparrow and smirking.

Honestly the faces were probably the best part of the show, but Abitha's penchant for more urban music meant an unaccompanied drumline was still enjoyable for her to listen too, a nod matching the bass hits.

From a fair few steps back. Where she chose to stop.

Sparrow skips a beat as she catches the movement at the base of the stairs, gaze flicking up from the syncopated percussion to identify the source. Flashing a smile, she finishes with a flourish, a little flip of one drumstick just to show-off, and then tugs at her headset... which blares The Fratellis out into the basement. "Hey," might get lost in the noise as she sets her drumsticks aside--far too neatly for one who was just flailing about like a madwoman--then taps at her phone to kill the music. The subsequent silence is a little bit unsettling, down here where none of the sounds of the yard or the street filter in, where there's only the occasional creak of the house settling to assure that time is, indeed, passing. "What's up?"

“That’s uh... a complicated question.” The answer was about as nervous and awkward as Abitha’s expression had turned as soon as Sparrow had asked. The gamer had bitten her lip, rocked her weight onto her heel a bit, eyes going lower and side to side as she tries to form the things floating around her thoughts into coherent words.

“I um... You know what I’ve been working on? Like for the cops and stuff?” Abitha lifts her chin toward where her studio was, referring to the game system Sparrow might have seen her occasionally having open, hooked up to her master rig, decompiling, working through the encryption. She had made it over-complicated by intent, really. There was no telling what spookiness had done to the system, and she wanted a verifiable copy of the information there that wouldn’t show tampering, just in case.

“I’ve come across some stuff, and uh... It’s about a couple of your friends.”

One of those conversations, is it? Sparrow doesn't look troubled at the prospect, but she does aim to settle in more comfortably, removing her headset in full to set it back on the peg made for it. She flicks a finger across her phone screen just to check the list of incoming messages, a little extra delay to give Mac a moment to get the words to come together. When she looks up, her, "Yeah," is easy enough, no leaps to any conclusions about where this could be going, not when there are so very, very many possibilities. Especially in Gray Harbor.

It's difficult to gauge where on the scale of expected options the actual answer falls from her reaction alone, surprise that this is where the conversation is heading, but not that names she knows might come up. No reason to think anything of it yet either way. "Alright?" is a prompt all on its own, but she follows up with actual questions. "Who? And what sorta stuff?"

"Kelly, mostly." Abitha starts, the wish granted to just blurt it out, get it done. 'Your new boss.' is chosen to be left off at the end there. They'd get to employment questions later, this was the personal bits first. The next one was a little harder though, coming with a delay.

"And Rhys." She looks a little guilty at this, because to her, Rhys didn't seem the type, and she had seen that Sparrow generally seemed happy to have him around. Therefore its almost like the gamer jumps to defend that one. "Though he doesn't seem like... Totally bad? I dunno, I see his name on financials related to stuff... Um..."

Sparrow's non-reaction seems to make Abitha more nervous, eyes leaving the other woman briefly as she tries to get to the meat of it. "Have you ever heard of Felix Monaghan?"

Sparrow sinks down in her chair as she listens... only to find that it puts her cymbal in her line of sight, rendering awkward conversation all the more awkward for visual interference. With a sour look, she pushes to her feet and circles around to the back of the mostly unstocked bar. She stoops out of sight, the suction sound of the mini-fridge giving away what she's doing. Really. She's just grabbing a drink. This has nothing at all to do with keeping her reflexive reactions out of view from Abitha. By the time she's upright again, she's got two cans of beer in hand, both a berliner weisse, crisp and tart, one held out to her roommate. Her expression has been schooled into curiosity, rooted well-enough in sincere interest that it almost masks the I know where this is going below it. Maybe Mac won't notice when she answers the question with another question. "What kind of financials? I don't get what you're getting at here."

Fizz-pop-crack

Yes, the beer is taken and immediately opened by the gamer, a grateful look given Sparrow before taking a sip. The rest of the words spill out with ensuing breath soon after that.

"Crime, like, organized crime. The casino, the nightclub. Lots and lots of money." Abitha was grimacing. The beer meant she had something to look at, to distract herself, able to fiddle with the tab, look down into the liquid, peer less at her friend for reactions that seemed not to come. God, she hoped Sparrow wasn't part of it... She seemed to want to get away from Rhys, though, that same predisposition to positive assumptions prioritizing her subject focus.

"But Kelly... Its a lot. Like... Um... Bodies." The sip looks more like a gulp this time. "There's two organizations basically fighting to take over the crime in Gray Harbor. And they're the home team... But... Like... I don't know what to do about it. You're the first person in telling..." Brief glance up, gauging, hopeful, but still wary.

One beer off-loaded, Sparrow opens the other, sipping as she watches Abitha, as she waits. Should there be more surprise in her eyes at that note about organized crime? Maybe, but she seems to take it in stride. Maybe she's just waiting to hear her out, analytical brain clicked on, emotional reactions set aside. It's the mention of bodies that gets proper response, a faint scrunch of her nose, a shift of her attention over thattaway. Fuck, that's a complicated little knot that just tangled up inside her chest.

"Well." For several seconds, that's all she's got, a placeholder, a little aluminum twang as she flips her thumb against the beer can's tab. "What I know of Joey Kelly is that he cares about Gray Harbor, and that he's done well by its people. Including me. Multiple times. He's a good person, Mac. Whatever else he's done, for whatever reasons?" That face right there? Brows all drawn together, lips curled into an uncertain frown? That says she cares about him, that she believes in him. "And Rhys..." Furrow and frown both deepen, fingers tightening slightly around her beer. How long until all this traces back to Cris, too? Why can she feel her heart in her throat? Oh, right, cuz the words in her head aren't ones she's sure she should speak. It's one thing to turn a blind eye, another to be complicit, to encourage another into equally shady behavior.

"Is there..." Her mouth is so dry. She takes a swig. Then another sip. And another. With an audible exhale, she refocuses, changes her approach. "The other side of this thing? They're the ones who killed the chief of police, who stole Joey's car and tried to kill Cris with it, who shot up the funeral and the casino. Who've beaten up friends and friends of friends. They're the ones making Gray Harbor bloodier than it already was. We've got it hard enough here without their bullshit. They're the bad guys, Mac."

"Well... yeah, the motherfuckers burned down the Control Pad." Abitha agrees to that last part straight out of hand, she sips, then makes a pointing wave of her hand, "And Allll those assholes deserve what's coming to them." with a sigh, she pulls herself up onto one of the stools at the little bar, holding the beer in both hands as she tries to apply words to the rest of it.

"So like, the Felix guy, far as I can tell is the head honcho. And some of the stuff he's done..." There's a face, a pinched look, a slightly harried opening of her eyes, the sort of expression that spoke to the fact Abitha didn't really know how to parse what the man was responsible for in a human perspective. She tries to move on, "Joey seems to run a bunch of shit for him. Rhys is only mentioned when I see anything taken care of financially, so it's probably just having to do with laundering or some sort of white collar money shuffling." There's a faint shrug, "But I can't really see through that stuff, it's not my forte." She pauses, finally looking at Sparrow again, "The other guys, I think this was their info, like their ace in the hole to try to drive the home team out. Thing is..." She trails off, then takes another swig of her beer, "...that asshole Liu blew it up. Lilith Winslow somehow restored it from melted slag... So, uh... I really don't know what I'm doing. If I should be doing?" She makes another powerless seeming shrug.

When Mac settles, so too does Sparrow. Sort of. She more leans in against the bar, jutting up sideways with her elbow against the bartop and her attention mostly on the green-haired girl with the big moral dilemma. "Damn right they do," she mutters in agreement, having spent months wishing they were all gone, that her town was that little bit safer. Cuz it's really not safe and every bit counts. She listens in sympathetic silence, not even fussing with the tab anymore, more focused on Abitha's hands. It's easier than looking up, especially after that look at the mention of Felix's misdeeds. "Do you think there's any way to use any of this against the actual bad guys? Not..." She pulls a face. "Not that Felix isn't bad news." He's just quieter, nothing she has to really deal with in her personal life. Unlike these other jerks. "Is there anything that could make the violence stop without letting them win?"

Air sputters through the lips of the gamer, a sound of frustration. “I don’t even know...” Abitha starts, then sets the beer down, starting to count off on her fingers and make generally illustrative hand motions that could mean any manner of thing, but mostly just seemed to make sense to her to go along.

“Like, what I’ve got, sends Felix away, easy... But who goes down with him? And what do we do about the other side? They’ve done all the shit you talked about, shootings, car shit, sent a guy to stab August, real evil shit. What do we do? I don’t know. I know I’m getting frustrated, and if I keep working for the GHPD I’m going to keep getting frustrated. I don’t want to follow a procedure, I want to burn their fucking homes down and send them back to their scummy holes.” Her hands find their way up into her face then back up and over her pulled-back hair, flipping her ponytail over a shoulder and reclaiming her beer. She sips, then sets it down, green-painted nails tapping at the can. After another moment, another question, slow and leading.

“Does Joey like what he does?”

"Pretty sure that's what they mean when they say fighting fire with fire," Sparrow floats in a quiet singsong, fully aware that maybe this isn't the best time to make jokes, but... well, it's only half a joke, really. And it was too good to pass up. Besides, it's a lot easier to think about arson in the very probably hypothetical sense than to consider what might happen to people she cares about in a very real sense if someone else gets their hand on this intel. Restless, she abandons her beer to the bartop and straightens, hands setting in her shorts pockets. Though her shoulders lift high with a shrug at the question, she has an answer. "I know he likes the gym. I know he likes his dance studio. I know he likes rescuing animals and hosting fundraisers and supporting local kids and... I mean. That's what I know about what Joey does." She adds in an apologetic mutter, "Not like I'm trying to sell you on the idea of not selling him out. It's just... I mean. That's the only Joey I know." Plus all those now-substantiated rumors that she does a good job ignoring. Even now. "For what it's worth? I say we talk with Rhys. I trust him. Entirely. And I know he's got a level head. And can probably figure a way to make the best of this for everybody."

"You joke, do you know I've put thought into the mechanical possibility of drones lifting and dropping buckets of kerosene. Untraceable arson payloads." Abitha comments wryly. With her level of technical intelligence, it seemed an idea the geek could easily bring to fruition. There's a brief look of panic, Abitha looking up with wide eyes and lifting a palm as she realizes that was a thought she likely should have kept internalized. "I mean, not for real though!" Nope. No incriminating search histories here. That's what Tor browsers were for...Pressing her lips flat into a thoughtful frown, Abitha considers the advice, slowly transitioning back to possibly non-destructive plans.

"You're probably right. I kinda wanna talk to Joey about it too, though. If he's as good a guy as you think maybe he wants an out. This could be it, played right." Another look down precedes another question though, a leading one, an inquiry she may be even more nervous to make coming, "But um.... You know I've been working on getting the One Up going?"

It's a thought Sparrow can appreciate, the sort of thought which inspires two very distinct responses at the same time: holy fuck, that's brilliant, let's try it... and I hope my friend doesn't turn into a supervillain or, worse, get arrested for arson. Excitement flares first on her features before reason kicks in, that sudden rush of worry easily surrendered when Mac assures she isn't gonna actually do that. It's not like they know where these assholes are anyway, right? Her nod is more confident than it needs to be, edging toward accidental arrogance in her enthusiasm. SHe knows she's right. Talking to Rhys is where every other idea circles back to. Even the one about talking to Joey. "Yeah, maybe." She just wants to check in with her favorite accountant first. Hands lift at her pockets, empty. Oh, right, her phone's all the way over there, by her drums. It gets a look, but she leaves it, distracted by the tangent into new territory. "Yeah, you mentioned." Right? At some point, surely. Brows arch curiously. "How's that going?"

“Uh, well, it’s going.” Yes, Abitha, give vagueness when you’re the one asking about the subject. Brilliant. The brief consternation at herself crosses her look before she continues, “I’m gonna be trying some new stuff. The old comic shop had good shelving for board games and CCG’s, and since I’m kinda already gonna be the nerd-one-stop-shop, I figured it would be good to diversify, what with my stream kinda slowly dying.” She runs right over that pretty distressing bit she definitely had not mentioned to Sparrow before this conversation, straight into the next part.

“And yaknow, Kyle was surprisingly knowledgable in that? He helped a little, anyways. Not completely useless. Uh... but... I wanted to know if you wanted your job back working for me.” The last bit spills out in a quick torrent, the jittery part of the gamer’s manner indicating this was probably the most distressing bit of the conversation so far, which was comical given the gravity of the rest of it. Nicole had suggested she just asked, so there it was.

Sparrow perks at the prospect of expanding into other facets of nerddom, the way she straightens suggesting this may well be relevant to her interests. It's been a while since her family's had a game night, what with her parents not speaking with her and her sister being off at school and... everybody's just been busy and down and it's been hard to find time for the fun stuff. That's a cheery thought. Good work, Phil! A frown flickers across her features before she catches it, before she finds something else to hook on. "What? Really?" She hasn't really figured out how nobody in Gray Harbor maintains any sort of fame and success that stretches beyond the town's border. Why should she? It's just nothing she's ever thought about. She doesn't really think about it now, either, not when that question comes rushing out, the swiftness earning a snort of a laugh from the purple-tressed drummer. "I mean. I don't wanna leave Joey high and dry, but. I'm pretty sure he could survive just fine if I cut back hours there, only came in once a week to handle the administrative stuff he's not to good at. But I still have school, too. So. Same caveats as last time." Which is to say that she'll be studying on the clock, even if the expanded options might make for a busier shop. "Do you have an ETA?"

Abitha's shoulders lift and descend, the briefness of the expression almost a metaphor for the rise and fall of a streamer's popularity, "I mean, I've never thought it would last forever, which was why I jumped at the store idea. Subs have just been falling off lately though. Maybe I've been distracted with the investigation... I dunno I didn't think I streamed any less or changed much." The words accompany a face that didn't seem dissimilar to the forced normalcy Sparrow herself had affected not too long ago. It might be affecting Abitha, but she was putting onna brave face in spite of it. She issues a snort and makes an overhanded, dismissive wave.

"Offer's never gonna change. You and Kyle can study until you've got a doctorate for all I care. It's never affected the store negatively. I'll be opening it in two weeks." Because even if she was organized, she'd left the awkward conversation to the last possible moment. There's a brief look of thought, then slight guilt. "There is an apartment in the building though, so... Um... I'll be moving out, but I'll need to furnish it slowly, so you've got my rent for the next two months."

"Mac." Sparrow's smile is easy, dark eyebrows arched high in that Mama Bird way of hers that, frankly, hasn't had much opportunity to come out since most the town has fallen into thinking of her as a mother of thirteen little birds. It feels good, natural to step into that role again, shoulders sinking slightly as tension she hadn't realized she was holding bleeds off. "We knew it was probably temporary. That was the goal. Keep you safe and comfortable and connected while you figured out your next move. This is a good thing." Her smile sharpens, an impishness brightening her eyes. "And, besides, sounds like I'mma be getting paid twice, so." It sorta works out. "Which isn't to say we won't miss you, but." Her grin grows broader still. "Pretty sure you won't miss us. Collectively. Like all the noise and people and shirtlessness. But I'll make sure to bring in something from C every now and then."

"I will too... And you're gonna see me regularly still..." Abitha mutters in a downtrodden sort of way. "And I mean... You brought me in, took care of me. You and Corey were so great... It was mostly just Jens, like... how hard is it!" Her hands briefly lift over her head, like she were miming flipping a table. She takes a breath, lets it out, and finally gives Sparrow a relieved grin, meeting her eyes again, "Sorry I'm a mess. I'd been worried about that since I bought the new building." She says it so casually, like it was normal for a woman her age to just be buying up real estate like that.

Abitha finishes her beer off and slides off her stool, pausing a moment to look down into the empty can, the look a poor facsimile for thoughtful. She looks up at Sparrow again. "I'd like... warn about being careful, but I guess it's all gonna hinge on what he and Rhys have to say about themselves." Or if someone was going to threaten her once they knew what she knew. Who could tell? Her posture seems unsure, then she tacks on one last bit.

"Thank you. Again. A bunch."